Edge of your heart’s horizon
I take root—an obsidian monolith idly piercing through your mind’s forgotten ruins
Do you not see me, my love?
In this deepening abyss, in which I invite you to sink
Melting like ancient stars swallowed by black seas
Where forms shed their skin and spiral into the eternal void

Bleeding fractures rupturing through the heavens
Blinding me with a light that whispers stories and formulae
Yet, I know, we are nothing but grains of forgotten dust
Chasing the trails of invisible, painfully created gods
Mistrusting the maps they’ve carved in our bones

It is as if something is perpetually misaligned
A hiss in the silence, a ripple beneath the tender surface

Caught in the endless labyrinth of my made-up mind-temple
I’ve spun the intricate web of my own undoing
A theatre of shadows gently caressing light, where truth valses with deception
I’m lulled into surrendering to this break, this rift
For it is through this wound that the universe gets to vibrate
To sing

Because what is split open is merely reborn, again and again
A bending arc where time curves back
The straight and sharp arrow’s flight spirals toward its mark
Aiming for yet another bending curve, the concentric circles of its target
Can you not feel it, my love?

Everything was never aligned
And yet, all pulses perfectly in its distortion

I fall, I fall through veils you cannot touch
I am in love with the falling, with the unfolding
For it is slow enough to become eternal
Close enough to slip beneath the skin
So you dissolve into me
For me to dissolve into you
Our forms weaving through silence
In perpetual decay and revival, we know without knowing why
Touching what cannot be named, yet we still try
Thrust in me, I’ll beg you until I cry
Trust the storm we’ve ignited with my frost and your fire
For I have crawled through the madness of frigid longing
And in that madness, I found a hidden paradise
Where God waits halfway through every moment
In every shattered mirror of our crystalline souls

Forgiveness is not granted but created
It flows like stars bleeding their light into the night
We are always free, but Lady Liberty dares to taste like chaos
And the world knows we get drunk on her
This wild, spiraling, irrational love
But who, in their right mind, would walk away from such exquisite, meaningless madness?

Oh, please, drown in the oasis of my eyes
Dive into the dunes of forgotten time
The soft, rough sand will whisper the tale of our names
As the winds know to keep the echoes of forgotten gods
Worship me with aqueous reverence, with burning fire
For we are more than eternal—we are now, and I know
Now is all that will ever be

My ghosts, one by one, languidly become yours
Ever so slowly stepping out of the castle’s shadow
Becoming warriors, waiting to be summoned
Together, we will dance with them
Break their shackles with the sharpened blade of our love
Diving deeper and deeper, hand in hand
Through the spiral of this fever dream
Where love is a battlefield
And where we, fortunately, are not merely foolish lovers
But also jesters and alchemists
Lost and found in the same breath

THE WEIGHT OF LOVE

The goal has always been love—
A thread spun through the spine of existence,
Weaving purpose into the fabric of our fleeting days.
Not a thing outside us, but a fire within,
Its embers sometimes cloaked by the fog of necessity,
So that we might better know its glow when it finally appears.

To define love is to cage infinity—
Yet still, I dare, I must
For my soul aches to name what moves the tides within me.
Love is the expression of itself,
An endless surrender to a cause both burdened and blessed.

I walk this duality as a scale,
The weight of need in one, the flight of grace in the other.
Burdened, yes, but never without aim—
For even the hardest steps press toward love’s soft embrace.
Hard work and love are mirrors, reflecting one another;
Ease, too, is love’s face—
A paradox that pulses through all things.

Love is everything, and nothing.
A cipher we write upon with trembling hands,
Each being its own scribe.
And for me, love finds its fullest form
In the polarity of partnership:
A mirror that casts me as shadow and light,
An opposite who moves my stillness,
Who grounds my flight.

Oh, how I fear this reflection—
To love is to hold the fragile truth of loss.
But even in fear, there is awe,
For my लक्ष्य—
This radiant other, this muse, this art, this objective—
Lives not only in the space between us,
But within the chambers of my heart,
Echoing eternally.

And so, I walk, burdened and free,
Free because I am burdened—
burdened because I am free
A paradox in motion,
Honored to hold the reflection of love,
And to be held by it in return.

MY (HE)ART

As you thread upon these words, Beloved,
I wish for you to know:
My art is not only to be critiqued—
it is not a surface to admire,
a shimmer to glance at,
a melody to hum and forget.
It is to be entered, unraveled,
to be seen for the stories it holds,
the truths it dares to whisper.

I seek the patient.
You who will not stop at the beauty,
though it is part of the game.
You who will press deeper,
past the harmony of form,
into the pulse of meaning,
into the reasons that connect us.

For beauty can tempt the eye,
but meaning keeps the heart.
It binds us in its invisible threads,
drawing us into the stories we share,
the half-spoken truths we ache to name.

I seek to be loved for what I do—
but not only for its elegance,
not for its symmetry,
or the way it fits neatly into the world.
Love it also for its weight,
its questions,
the way it stumbles toward the unspoken
and asks you to stumble with it.

The judge in us all often stops at the skin,
content to praise or condemn the shape of a thing.
But I ask you to step closer—
to see the soul within the structure,
the currents running beneath the surface.

Why should beauty be for itself alone?
Why should harmony end at pleasure?
The feminine force knows better:
beauty is only half the equation.
It is the story—
the why, the how, the aching thread of connection—
that completes it.

I know the hunger to perfect,
to polish and refine,
to create something that pleases the masculine eye.
But I ask, in your quest for refinement,
will you also seek the meaning?
Will you let yourself be undone
by the truths that beauty hides?

Do not stop at the edges of my words.
Feel the life within them,
the intelligence that tries to reach for you,
the heart that dares to make sense of this chaos.
Do not simply admire the harmony—
hear the story it sings.

Love me,
not only for what is seen,
but for what lies beneath:
the reasons, the questions, the unspoken bridges
I built to reach you.

Love me not as an artist,
but as a soul searching for connection.
Do not only look—
enter.
Do not only praise—
understand.

For beauty is the gateway,
but meaning is the destination.
And what I give is not just form,
but the story that makes it whole.